The little soda machine that could
by sleeperisms
Summary: What ever happened to that soda machine? This follows it's adventures and hijinks across the country. THE ADVENTURE CONTINUES![movieverse]
1. Chapter 1

This story could go on FOREVER. He might end up in like, france, and terrorize the french or something. I dont know.

&& i dont own transformers.

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It was like falling. That was the easiest way to describe coming to life so suddenly. It was like he had been falling all of his life and was plunged into consciousness. There was a millisecond of thought, the first things coming to his mind being a violent gibberish, sounding somewhat like 'blurabagahbagahboo'.

He felt cramped, like he was bound together. He strained as hard as he could and...apendages exploded from all over his body.The cage that contained him burst open with ease, sending coins out in all directions like shrapnel. He shifted and changed and locked into place. Now he had arms and legs, a head. And a gun. With no direction in life, no purpose, nothing to fuel him but pure and powerful energy he screamed. Things around him scurried off in all directions. This upset him, these screams and these things.

He did not know why but it upset him. He did not know anything but he was very angry. He raised his right arm and tapped into some part of his mind that allowed him to shoot from the mounted gun. If felt good, as every carbonated missile launched he got a tingle of pleasure, of relief. So he kept shooting. He shot at the running things, they seemed the best thing to target. Target. He didn't refer to it by that name but in his mind he knew that when he aimed his projectiles at something he was targeting. Seconds into creation, he was learning.

Then, something came from his vocal processor. A laugh. He wasn't aware but perhaps something he was feeling caused him to emit sound.It was like when he screamed, it came without him knowing. But then he knew. He knew how to make sound and he knew how to move. Baby steps.

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_Run like hell, run like hell run, run, dammit run!_ Rodney screamed to himself. It was a drive to the office, like every other day. But unlike every other day there were giant monsters duking it out in the middle of the road, shooting missiles and guns at each other. All he could do was abandon his car and run in the other direction. Jump over this, avoid that. He ran like hell.

When he thought he had gotten far enough away from the monsters, he stopped and leaned over the hood of a car, catching his breath. "Thirty seconds and i-" **FLOOP**. He found himself on the ground, holding his head. A little bit of blood appeared on his hand when he observed it, it seemed to be mostly blunt trauma.

Halfway into his attempt to stand up, he was hit with something else, in the shoulder. This time it exploded with cold liquid. For a second he thought it was his blood. He reached over and touched it. _Too thin to be blood, what the hell?_

He brought his hand, soaked in the liquid to his nose. He sniffed in. "Is that, is that Mountain Dew?"

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It was like a child playing. He must have fired off over a hundred missiles already, and gotten quite good at aiming. The environment started to make sense to him now. These running things were the life form. They were different from him. They were not him. He understood. The road he walked on was black, and littered with abandoned metal objects.

The smaller gray road to his right was un littered by these things, and so he stepped over to the sidewalk. It had been an hour and every time he tried to shoot a missile the chamber was empty and it would click. If he did not attempt to shoot, however, the chambers would begin to fill with new missiles. His young mind came to the conclusion that the longer he waited, the more he could shoot again. He liked to shoot.

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In the events of the battle, nobody cared to notice the six-foot tall machine walking off into the distance, out of the city, into the desert...


	2. Chapter 2

**Mountain Dew is not owned by myself, nor is law and order.**

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He had been walking for days. He would never know it though, he had still not come to know the concept of time, not completely. The only thing he started to notice was that sometimes it was bright out, but sometimes it got dark. When it got dark, his vision would change and he would see things differently. Everything was bathed in a purple light, and here and there scurrying objects would appear with orange and red auras.

For a couple of dark times and a couple of bright ones, he was walking on a ground that was very different from the one he was born on. It was soft, and he sunk a couple of inches into it if he was still for too long. Then he knew that not every place was the same. There were different floors. He was not in the same place anymore, apparently by walking he could go to other places. This place was not very well liked by the robot, there was nothing to shoot at. This feeling of irritation sparked something in his gears, and he was walking faster. Eventually, he was running. He was so into the action that he was practically on auto pilot, kicking up sand as he ran through the desert.

When the sand finally met with ashphalt, his sensors making the discovery between terrain, he stopped. He took the time to walk forward and back, and searched around for an internal mechanism that could make him run. He strained. Nothing. But then he thought about how he fired his missiles. He simply thought about it, flexed a hydraulic and he was shooting his carbonated projectiles. With that thought in mind, he began to sprint. He stopped. He ran again. He stopped. He liked to run, it seemed to pass him through places rather quickly.

Time was starting to register for him. When he observed his surroundings he noticed something in the environment that was sticking up from the ground, with markings on it. A sign that read _"203 miles to Utah state line"_ This was saved in his memory bank. He was on a road now, with sand on both sides. He wanted to go to a new place, he wanted to go somewhere where he could shoot his guns. He told himself to run, and he was down the road.

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**Welcome to Utah!** the sign read. Things had become dark, but the light had not come back. He had made this trip in under a day._A day, one light time and one dark time_. Instantly, small boxes appeared all over his field of vision. They marked organisms housed inside of large objects, the same ones that polluted the streets where he had begun to exist. So these people move around in these boxes. His consciousness, ever expanding had identified that he liked to shoot his cannon. So his system targeted for him. He stepped into the path of one of the boxes and opened fire on the organism inside.

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The radio was alive with special updates on earthquakes and meteor activity, much to the dismay of the woman behind the wheel. "Who the hell cares put my show back on!" She slapped the radio in anger, she was missing the radio broadcast of her favorite crime drama."Thats the last time i work past seven, i am not missing SVU!" She slapped the radio once more, and after realizing it would do her no good looked back out onto the road.

She was tempted to keep straight and drive out of Mormon town and into Vegas. But no, she made the left and continued on her way home. She took her eyes off the road one more time and fumbled through her purse for a cigarette. Before she could find the stick of nicotine, her windshield shattered, fragmenting the glass in spider webs. A second later, she hit something. There was an odd bang, the sound of metal on metal and her car swirved , teetering on one side before coming to a halt against the side of a small liquor store.

She had been screaming so much that her throat was hoarse. She finally stopped and began to breathe slowly, not noticing the crushed can plastered into her windshield, or the white froth that trickled down. She was to busy getting out of the car, dreading to look behind her and see a dead bicyclist or something. She was instantly relived, and confused at the same time. What she did see, laying in the middle of the road, was a Soda machine.

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He had almost forgotten how good it felt to eject a projectile. The silver can flew at an incredible speed towards the head of the organism, when it suddenly exploded, before it hit the target. He had a split second to be confused, but when he saw the large box making full speed at him, twin lights catching him in their path, instinct took over. His arms folded back on themselves and tucked into his chest. His head flipped backwards and stored itself in a compartment. Thousands of small details shifted and morphed, until he was transformed. It was like the first thing he remembered seeing, but this time instead of darkness he still saw.

Optics whose location he did not know were peering out into the night sky. His instinct and self-preservation put him into this mode, so he decided it would be best not to fight it, not yet. He felt no discomfort, laying there. After a while he heard a wailing noise and observed a flashing red and blue light in his peripheral. In little time, a being dressed in a brown cloth was in his vision, hovering over him. As a developed reflex, his system fired a single shot at the human, this time not from the cannon but from the small rectangular dispenser at the bottom of his transformed form.

The man in brown cursed and held his chin, but did not run away. For some reason these organisms reacted differently when he was in this mode. He strained his system and told himself not to shoot, and he did not. "Damn thing is malfunctioning, must have fallen off someones truck."

Another human came into view. "So what do we do with it?" The first one rubbed his chin. "Accident, we don't need evidence." The being looked around. "Any of you boys want a Mountain Dew machine?"


	3. Chapter 3

**Do i need to remind you that i dont own Crisp, refreshing, delicious Mountain Dew?**

**_-smiles at the camera-_**

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He had been registering the language of these organisms deep in his memory. He did not know what to make of it yet, but he figured that eventually it would start to make sense. The night sky ran past his vision, he was loaded in the back of one of their boxes. He was moving, but he knew that it was not him controlling the movement. He had no legs in this form. 

When the box stopped and the sky was still, he felt himself being pushed, until he was dropped and loaded onto some sort of contraption with wheels. It must have been a very good contraption, for it moved him around with ease, his scanner indicating to him that he was in fact moving backward. His vision shook and vibrated as he was wheeled up a set of stairs. He saw a large panel close in front of him. He was confused now, it had gone from the dark time to the time of light so rapidly. He could not explain why there was a lack of 'in between light', his description of a sunset.

He got a glimpse of strange obstructions as he was rolled through this enclosed environment. He noticed one of the creatures seated on said obstruction in another room. When he came to a halt his vision spun 360 degrees before he was facing a wall. He then was slowly turned again, until he faced out into an area with a table and several chairs. There was another rectangular object against the wall next to him, it had two doors. He got a good view of the stomach belonging to the Life form that had wheeled him in. He felt a couple of taps on the side of his being, followed by a hard bang.

"Gimme some of that drink." The organism pressed several buttons rapidly. All of this hitting and pressing irritated him, but he knew that he should stay in his present form, be patient. _Patience_, that was his latest lesson.

"Joe! What in the hell are you banging on?" His processor hummed with this new information. This thing was designated Joe. Another form ran into the room. This one was standing further away, so he got a full view. "What the hell is that?" It emmited in a high pitched voice. This organism spoke differently and looked differently too. Like the creature he shot at on the road. He had classified that now there existed to forms of the natural inhabitants of these places.

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"Its a damn Mountain Dew machine woman what does it look like?" Joe answered in frustration. His wife must have known what it was, so that stupid question only frustrated him. "Why in the world do you need a soda machine in the house for, so you can get fat as hell without leaving home?" She was really getting on his nerves. "This is my house and i can put whatever i want in here, and you aint tellin me otherwise!"

His wife dropped her crossed arms in defeat. "You need to go on a diet." She eyed his pertruding gut and walked off. "I'm only human jessy!" he rubbed his gut a little bit and pondered the idea of eating healthy. He instantly shook it off. "Whatever. I'm the man." He examined the lock on the front of the machine, the one that kept the front panel from opening up. "Yup, thar it is. Just need a good hammer and that'll come right off."

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_I'm only human...woman what does it look like?...I'm the man..._ Joe was human, he was a man.The other being was a woman. Things begun to make sense.

After the one referred to as Jessy exited, Joe did as well. After a while, he noticed the bulbs on the ceiling. They seemed to be the source of this light time, and artificial at that because out the window he could see that it was still dark. No matter how many times he scanned the area he could see, he could still not make sense of many of the obstructions. He only knew that sometimes the woman sat on one of them.

When Joe came back into vision, he was holding something in his hand. "Alright, Time to Do the Dew." Joe snickered. "Boy I'm funny I'll tell you." Joe shook off the residual laughter from his corny joke and began to pound at him, in an area his vision could not see. But he did not like this, he was getting more and more aggravated. Joe's hits started to get harder and harder, ocassionally missing and hitting his buttons. "Whats wrong with this machine?" He pounded frantically. "GIVE ME MY MOUNTAIN DEW!!"

_Mountain Dew_, he heard that alot.

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Zach Baker had a rough day at work, and in his rush to free himself of his clothes and dive into a bath he had forgotten to retrieve the mail. It was no big deal though, he simply went outside to get it before he would call it a night. The air was cold and refreshing to the man, who shuffled to his mailbox and pushed down the red flag on its side. He went through a pile of bills and auto magazines, and was in the middle of reading a return address on a letter when he saw his neighbor, Joe, flying headfirst out of his window.

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It was like a marketing campaign gone terribly wrong. The streets of Utah were being terrorized by a humanoid robot who was shooting cans at people and yelling "MOUNTAIN DEW! MOUNTAIN DEW!"


	4. Chapter 4

He had begun to meet more resistance from the humans, larger vehicles and larger weapons. Not that the weapons did much but to annoy him, but they got increasingly more powerful, the latest one being able to knock him back onto his feet. He began to get very annoyed, having to get up and then be thrown back down so many times. And to add to the frustration, his missiles were currently re-animating. He figured that he best not take the chance and make a dash for somewhere to take cover. His thoughts had come to the point of complexity that he knew if he Transformed in plain sight, his disguise would not fool anyone. 

_'Run'_. His gyro's adjusted and soon he was off, running through the street. Though the 'black hard floor' was the easiest route, it also proved to be the most crowded. A quick survey of his surroundings informed him that smaller pathways existed in the space between the large errected monuments, buildings. It was darker than the rest of the area's, his night vision got brighter, and certain areas were cast in a blue light. A human box sped into the area where he was, lights flashing on its top. He panicked, and ran to the brick wall on his left, in a hope to clear himself from the path of the wheeled machine. He tightened his body to the wall. And the box drove by, it had not noticed him. When he looked down, he realized why; he was standing in the blue, the darker spot. The shadows.

He crept out of the darkness. This area had been vacated by the weapon-weilding humans, those dressed like Joe and his commander. He popped his head from the alley way, and scanned the street in front of him. He looked to the left, and saw a convenience store. When he looked to the right, he saw a cloaked figure, eyes peering out from the darkness cast by the oversized hood. He raised his cannon and just as he was about to fire on the human, the creature muttered something very strange.

"Please my lord i am your servant!" The being dropped down, and placed his hooded head on the mechanoid's feet. His facial plates shifted, to show interest. Not that he understood in the least bit the meaning of the words, but the body language had made things obvious. The cannon was lowered.

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"I am going to get _SO_ blessed." He hurried down the street, to his beat up Nova. He made sure to open the door for the following divine harbinger of doom, the symbol of worship for 'Metamin ach'lu', the cult which Robert Wood's had joined about a year earlier. Though he was not known as robert, but as 'Brother red' to signify his rank in the hierarchy of the association. He handnt believed when he picked up a tip on his police scanner about what was going on. He didn't really belive that this god even existed, but the fact that he did and that Robert was the one to lead him to the temple meant that he would be taken as a serious member of the group. He hoped.

When his sputtering car rolled up to the gate of their high counselor, he was buzzed in almost immediately. The home was very large, it did happen to belong to the mayor. He pulled up and shifted into park a couple of feet from the front door. Hooded figures spilled from the house, all eager to see this discovery that they had been phoned about. Robert locked his door and rushed to the back one. He pulled on the handle a couple of times. He had locked their god inside of an old Nova. He wiggled the door a couple of times until it came clear off of the frame. In all the hurry and frustration, it seemed that the metallic entity kicked the door off. He exited the car and looked around. Several humans, on their knees with their heads to the ground. Robert had clung down to the ground hard, he was set on worshiping the hardest, the best. He was knocked unconscious by a can to the back of the head.

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After spending a projectile on the insolent human that locked him in the box, he walked up the path formed by praising and worshiping life forms. In the doorway, a squatty man rose from his position to look up a couple of inches at him. "My lord, welcome." The man, who was dressed all in white to set him apart from the other minions, ushered him inside. This inside was like Joe's house, with the artificial light time. It was much larger, and the obstructions looked finely crafted.

The man in white took a position behind a rectangular wooden post and rested his hands on it. The creature spoke from behind the object. "Brothers! Our day is here." He looked at the fat man in white, not understanding anything, but he did notice that the human kept gesturing at him, which made the robot slightly uncomfortable. His missiles cycled. "Those snug bastards over at 'Tosawe pr'ai' rubbed it in our face when they found their god, but look at us now!" The whole room clapped their hands. "Our god is going to kick their god's ass!" More applause. If something didn't happen soon, he would proceed to exterminate the whole room. After a few more crowd-pleasing words, the humans began to file out of the room. He looked down at his cannon, regretting every hooded freak he didn't shoot. The man in white noticed this, and placed a daring hand on his back. "Don't worry my friend, you'll be using that soon." He thought he knew what he said. He thought he would be able to shoot soon.

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He had been transported in another human box, this one far larger than any of the others he had seen. He had been processing the idea of interacting with humans for more than just targeting, perhaps they could become a resource. This thought was overcome as the vehicle stopped. His mind now focused on gathering data on their new location. He followed the crowd of cultists to the door of another estate. Apparently, the customary human greeting upon opening a door is ''DING DONG BITCH," followed by a blow to the face.

The hooded group flooded into the estate, and inside there was chaos. Hooded men battled humans that wore ovaloid spheres on their heads in a battle of the cults. Idiotic insults and sissy punches polluted the air, and he could only observe the futile combat teqnuiqes of these life forms. His optics caught a glint at the end of the room, and instantly his attention shifted.

It was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. She shone with a luster that anybody would want for themselves. The shine and sparkle that flickered off the edge of her body called to him, drew him in. Before he knew it, he was caressing a toaster mounted on a satin pillow, with the words 'Tosawe' engraved into its side. Apparently this motion drew the attention of the combatants. They each stood still, and looked at him. He looked down at the Toaster and snatched it up, placing it under his arm. He brought his cannon to the crowd, and searched for anything in his memory banks to put a sentence together. "**Mountain dong bitch please**!" From the reactions of the observers, he hadn't made sense. Oh well, language could wait another day. Cans flew.

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**He shall go anywhere and everywhere!**


	5. Chapter 5

**He's back!!!**

This chapter may seem like a set up for the next, but it's absolutely neccesary to show us how he ends up...well...you know.

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It was the closest thing to emotion he had felt. Sure, there was a primal sense of fear when he transformed for the first time. There was the ever-present anger within. But the affection that he sensed when he was holding the gleaming metal object could not be described. He did not feel the need to run and he did not want to shoot it, which was saying a lot.

The battle he fought with the hooded humans had been two dark times ago, since then he had wandered through a wooded region on the side of the divided gray ground where human boxes went up and down. From his path he could hear the boxes passing several feet away. It was a busy gray ground.

He was unnoticed, and the area was absent of any of the bipedal life he so enjoyed to dispatch. Of course there was the occasional animal, but since his encounter with the cultists he had developed more self-control. He would use his missiles wisely. He wanted screams to follow each discharge.

His subconscious scanned through data collected over the past two days but in his active consciousness he looked forward, only glancing to his side to check the toaster secured under his arm.

A prompt opened in his vision, opening a rectangle in his sights. It informed him that it was a human dwelling, like that of the human Joe or the Mayor's estate. The structure ahead was much larger than any he had ever seen. Overhead strange objects roared and descended towards the building┘.

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_"Foreign object reported on the runway, sorry Tom."_ Tom sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "That's fine, i'm on it."

He had been so close, his shift was almost up. Something always had to ruin it for him. It was on the runway, most likely dropped from a luggage convoy. If security suspected anything sinister they would have called in a higher-ranking officer and followed Homeland protocol.

The walk downstairs and to the Maintenance station for runway c took forever, and every yawn that escaped his lips seemed to slow things down even more. When he slid onto the bench of a security cart he was tempted to stretch out and take a nap. _Just a quick one_.

_No_. He forced his eyes open and was not surprised to find the key in the ignition. The electric vehicle screamed to life, and he turned a knob on the side of the bench to forward. The cart accelerated rather quickly onto the runway, and the wind rushing over his arms and through the open doors of the vehicle woke him up, just a little. Enough to reach the rectangular obstruction standing upright. A soda machine.

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As he expected, he met no human resistance while he was compacted. He wanted to learn more about this complex, where these large metallic aerodynamically designed objects rose into the air. They were not organic; they produced sounds that were distinctly mechanical. Perhaps these were the dominant life form on the planet?

As had happened before, a human approached him, and he heard that familiar word yet again. His precious toaster lay on the ground next to him while he remained disguised and waiting.

It was the in-between time; the horizon was visible only out of the corner of his low-set view and around the lower legs of newly assembled humans.

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"D'ya think it's a bomb?" A nervous security guard asked. He was a new guy, the kind of guard that worked the food court.

"Naw. How in the world would they get a bomb out here without nobody seein?" There were mixed mumbles and deep exhales of oxygen.

"Look, just take this back and find out where the hell it's supposed to be." Tom was beginning to get irritated; these stooges seemed set on pissing him off.

"What about the toaster?" The guard insisted.

"That too. Screw it, my shift is over." Tom waved his hands at the Soda machine and marched off. The guard was left with the transport driver who bent over the machine to lift it.

"He's grumpy." Said the guard, who took place opposite the driver and readied himself to lift. The driver looked up in disbeleif. "You sound so gay."

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Some small recognition blinked within him as he felt his figure hoisted onto what he assumed to be another box. It was in fact a trailer, one of three used for luggage transport. The sky moved quickly downward, and he noticed that it was full light time.

He was lowered and scraped along the ground into a sheltered area, littered with small objects of similar shapes. They were tagged and sorted on odd attachments to a box.

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"Do a search for these things, there shouldnt bee too many Dew machines on early flights. Send the toaster with it." The transport driver slapped the side of the transformed impostor.  
"Have a fantabulous day." The sarcasm was heavy in his voice.

The man seated behind a computer rolled his eyes and rose to his feet to inspect the machine. "Mountain Dew. Where the hell are you going?" He searched up and around, but found no tag. The toaster didn't have one either, just something weird engraved on the side. He went back to his workstation and began to type in information.

"The last flight taking off of C was..." His eyes scrolled down the screen. "New York. A label printed from a nearby device. He peeled it into two pieces and stuck one on the machine and the other on the toaster. "Youre on the next flight to New York, then."

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The human defaced him with some strange square object that clung to his exterior. Then it went and sat on some object, like the ones at Joe's shelter. He came to the conclusion that this human was of no use to him. The human defaced him. His insides began to charge up, emitting a low squeal. The human stood up and took notice of this, walking over to him.

"Whats up with you? Sound grumpy."

He didnt get the joke, but he recognized the word and identified a response. Three cans flew from his dispensor and made explosive contact with the life form's head.

**"You sound so gay."**

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	6. Chapter 6

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If the flying machines were sentient, they were certainly not the dominant species. Not only was he now inside of one, but several carbon-based organisms also occupied it. His library of primitive feelings grew to include Disgust, though he wouldn't know that as the word. It registered inside of him like a grunt.

He had become far more accustomed to his alternate mode, where his limbs shot in upon themselves and humans accepted his presence. Of course he would receive the occasional strange glance from their already hideous faces, like when several of their species discovered the Technician unconscious on the floor, in a puddle of clear liquid that was not hissing and bubbling as it had when it first erupted on the ground.

They looked him over for a very long time and eventually muttered something that sounded like 'malfunction' to him. He was insulted when the small square label was stuck to him, but that could not match the rage that ran through his circuits as his field of vision was opaqued by layers of packaging tape, and then by something strange that the humans referred to as 'bubble wrap'.

His precious icon was similarly mummified and sat on the ground inches from him. He felt slightly uncomfortable that he could not see it, and for the first time he felt impatience, a result of not being able to tell what color it was outside and thus loosing track of time. The feeling was far too complex for him to make sense of, so his functions reverted to concentrating on the room he was in, bathed in the purple light of his sensors.

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His impatience grew when he was out of the flying mechanism. He was in a new place. The initial joy of this realization was extinguished over the next couple of hours. He had arrived in the light time and already the in-between was fast approaching.

Complaining humans moved him from area to area, and his label checked often. When he was outside of the human-swarmed building it was on a truck. He heard the word 'Gatorade' before he was loaded onto yet another transport.

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"We already got our Gatorade machine earlier." Her voice was uptight and annoyed. "I don't drink soda, do you think that does my voice any good?" Lydian Brown was known for being a diva, and she was certainly proud of it.

One of the stagehand's pushed himself between her and the delivery man and signed for the machine. He rolled her eyes and left them. She didn't really care, if everybody else wanted to get fat and lose their voices it was up to them. She wouldn't touch Mountain Dew, ever.

She smiled to herself when she was facing her dressing room. A bit cheap, the star on the door had her name markered in, but she could live with it. Inside it was better, decorated to her pleasure. Flowers and cards from well-wishers crowded the area in front of a large vanity mirror and pictures of her were taped along its ovaloid frame.

What they did they expect? Her voice was in demand; she brought life to the show. She was a shining star on Broadway and determined to wash out the light of every other starlet.

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He was in a room now, the walls were painted green and there were some shabby obstructions along two of them. His binds were free, and across from him there was a four-legged object, a table, with a platter of differently shaped and colored food items. There was another one with wheat products, and next to it…

His love. He was staring at it hard, and in the last couple of moments oddly dressed humans were rushing in and out of the room, squeaking out strange sounds. Several of them looked nervous. One of them stepped into the room and much to his dismay approached the toaster and stuck two slices taken from a loave into it. They descended.

It was playing with his prize. The human might have been hurting it.

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The audience turn out was as expected, the entire first level completely full, the balcony seats doing well also. The audience chattered excitedly, but stopped suddenly as the orchestra began to tune their instruments. The sound was beautiful, like music in itself.

They soon proceeded to play a slow ballad.

The lights went down, and the curtains opened. Lydian Brown was dressed in an eighteenth century gown. An umbrella twirled over her shoulder and her hair was shaped into bobbing curls. Her mouth opened to form an egg shape; she would woe the audience with her voice.

A scream, from offstage. Followed by others, each one more frightening. There were several pop's and it sounded like things were being knocked over. The audience looked interested, this was an interesting beginning to a show.

Lydian looked to the right wing, and the stage manager was moving his palms in circles screaming at her silently to go along, improvise. He gathered herself. "Oh my, what could that be?" He shifted her weight onto one foot and leaned to the right, cupping an ear with her left palm. "Perhaps the good sir-"

Something small blurred through the air and struck the actress. A knot formed instantly on her head and cold liquid was running the makeup down her face. She fell to the ground with all the drama and exaggeration anybody could come to expect from her.

A tall bipedal form marched on stage, and looked out into the audience, above them, at the spotlights. It's head tilted like a confused puppy, and he raised one of his arms. The arm moved, as if it were pointing at audience members.

Ten unconscious, four injured. Not bad for his first performance.


	7. Chapter 7

For the summer, the weather was surprisingly stable. Bright and sunny, with a light breeze. It was picture-perfect. If only the day would end as beautifully as it began. Roland Ashton scratched at the irritated skin just under his turtle neck, tapping his foot impatiently as he watched the freighter approach the dock, much too slow for his liking. Now and then he received dirty looks from yard workers, the middle class blue collars obviously had no appreciation for fine footwear or they wouldn't shoot such glances at his feet. It couldn't possibly be that obnoxious tap tap tapping...no, of course not.

Things couldn't possibly go wrong today. New D&G loafers, new rental car, and a shipload of theater equipment he had rented out to a small New York theater company. It was a small business project of his, but he realized that small billings across the world would rather rent their equipment for the length of their shows rather than invest in supplies they wouldn't need for nine months out of the year. He would need to hire a personal assistant for this type of thing, waiting out in the sun with dirty men, sweating through his top wouldn't do for a man of his class.

It was another dreadful hour before he even received the papers that would ship the curtains, fly equipment, flats, spotlights, sound and light equipment, and a myriad of other expensive necessities for the stage to his warehouse where it would wait to be rented out again. He scanned over each item carefully, making sure nothing was left off of the cargo manifest. His eyes stopped over some new additions, including things like costume racks, coffee machines, chairs and tables and a...soda machine? Well he wouldn't complain if they accidentally sent him some extra things from the theater. It was all gain for him.

He initialed here, signed there, and wasn't back in his car soon enough. A true drama queen, he blasted the A/C to level five and sped off, adding a couple of more spiteful looks to his already enormous collection.

"Canya believe tha guy?" Spat a worker, wiping a bandanna across his sweaty brow. "Tha nerve of some people, eh?" It took them about two hours to load everything onto moving trucks, which would soon depart to their final destination in the heart of London.

Just giving you a little peek at his next destination! New chapters up by the end of the week...this damn Hurricane is keeping me out of work so i have writing time!

P,S...Stonehenge anyone? We have all of the U.K at our disposal! 


End file.
